


(Love Letters) Straight from the Heart

by shrugheadjonesthethird



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Best Friends, Betty leaves for college, F/M, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Music, Jughead waxes poetic about his girl, Jughead works at Pops, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrugheadjonesthethird/pseuds/shrugheadjonesthethird
Summary: Jughead was too afraid to tell her. So he hid three of four letters to her while she packed for college, to be found throughout the semester.ORJughead has always loved Betty and he was too chickenshit to tell her, so he wrote his feelings down in ink.





	(Love Letters) Straight from the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello! This idea struck me pretty hard and now here we are. This is nothing but self-indulgent fluff. 
> 
> Title of this fic comes from Love Letters Straight from the Heart by Ketty Lester. The inspiration for this came from the song Jealous by Labrinth. Check it out. Its beautiful. 
> 
> Special thanks to Kari (nurseholliday) for being a sounding board for me in the beginning of writing this and encouraging me to keep at it when I wanted to give up. I do not deserve your friendship, but I am grateful for it <3
> 
> Also, to my wonderful betas: Alix (psychobetts/psychobetty) and Heather (whaticameherefor). Without you two, this would not be readable, and I thank you both so hard. Love you both. <3

Of course he said he’d help her pack for college. She was his best friend. He’d take whatever extra time he could get with her before she up and left for the big bad city-- before she left  _ him _ . This wasn’t to say that they were together. No, that would require Jughead to pull his head out of his own ass and confess his feelings for Betty.

  
But it hurt nevertheless.

  
Betty and Jughead had been best friends for as long as either could remember. He’d never forget her bouncing pigtails and coral gingham dress that she wore to Archie’s sixth birthday party or the way she’d stayed glued to his side as they grew up together. 

  
He watched as she graduated from overalls and t-shirts to pencil skirts and tank tops. Watched as she stopped wearing her hair in the perfect ponytail that bobbed as she walked the one he could pick out from a crowd. Watched as she continued her life like she was meant to. She was destined for great things, of that Jughead was always certain, but he never believed  _ he _ was.

  
When it came time to apply for college, he didn’t, knowing he was destined for a life of trailer parks and Serpents, overnight shifts at Pop’s and day shifts at the library. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but he knew he couldn’t get the scholarships he needed to attend school. His father was too proud to fill out financial aid paperwork for him, even for the community college.

  
Jughead was stuck while he watched his best friend flourish and get accepted to every school she applied to, with nearly full scholarships to all of them. She had her choices all over the country: NYU, American, USC, Princeton, Brown, Yale-- the list went on. Jughead could barely remember all twelve schools that were on it. 

  
All he knew was that she was leaving and there was nothing he could do that would stop her. He didn’t want to, but he needed to tell her how he felt. She needed, no, she deserved to know what he thought of her.

  
He thought the  _ universe _ of her, the world was too small to hold a candle to what he felt. He knew no one would ever make him feel like she did. No matter where in the world he went, he’d always find his way back to Betty. She was his penguin. Whether she was actually his remained to be seen, but he needed to tell her. He just wasn’t sure how.

  
He’d thought of the idea the day she asked him to help her pack. He’d do what he did best —  he’d write her letters. Four of them. He would hide them in her belongings as they packed and maybe she’d find them, maybe she wouldn’t. But at least they’d be out there.

  
He sat and wrote the letters the night before, waxing poetic of his love for her, or what he assumed was love, as he’d barely even been kissed (unless you count the pity kiss Toni gave him for his fifteen birthday when she found out), let alone been in love. But, he was pretty sure this was it. 

  
He picked up his favorite pen, the one that Betty had given him for his seventeen birthday -- the kind with a fancy metal inkwell that twists to open instead of clicks or caps. The ink flowed from the pen and the words poured from his mind onto the hand-pressed paper that JB had given him as a joke. 

  
After hours of thinking and writing and  _ rewriting _ , after a mountain of crumpled papers piled up on his desk, he had his four letters folded with precision in matching envelopes. Each with her name on them, each numbered; he took a deep breath as he put them in his messenger bag that he was bringing to Betty’s the next day.

  
He got there early, having been invited for breakfast with the Cooper clan before their day of packing. She instructed him  where they’d begin and how she wanted things sorted. She had made a plan, knew what she was bringing and what would stay home for when she returned on breaks or weekends.

  
“The stuff over there is coming with me. I just need to get it all in the suitcases. Think you can handle it?” Betty asked as he rolled her pink plaid luggage next to her bed.

  
Jughead took a deep breath; seeing the luggage made it real. She was really leaving. She was leaving in a few days. She was leaving Riverdale and everything they loved about it behind. Leaving him behind. He shook the thought from his head and began to pack her books. 

  
He slipped the second letter in her favorite book, knowing she’d find that one after the first. It was her go-to, what she would read when she was feeling overwhelmed or lonely. She’d hold off as long as possible before reaching for something familiar, wanting to do everything she could to adjust to her new life.

  
He hid the first in the pocket of her favorite hoodie. It was formerly his, but once he saw it on her, he was hard pressed to ask for it back. He knew she’d put it on almost immediately, a little piece of home curled around her to keep her sane in the newness of college and dorm life. He liked how she looked in his clothing and sometimes, he wondered what it would be like if that was all she was wearing, just for him.   
  
He hid the third in the back pocket of a pair of jeans she probably wouldn’t wear until it got a little cooler outside since she mostly lived in sundresses this time of year. The ones that cut just above her knee with the thin straps that showed off her shoulders and just the right amount of cleavage. 

  
The fourth one, the most important one, the key to the entire operation, he had to find somewhere special for. Somewhere she’d definitely find it, but not right away. No. He’d wait, she would want to know the end of the story. She could never resist something unfinished. He just hoped he was ready for when that day came.

 

He was at the Cooper house the day she left. He watched her drive away southbound to the lights and the glamour that she deserved in her life. She drove away from the dust and hate and the divide that was Riverdale, even though she did all she could while she was there to reconnect the sides. 

  
\--

 

She called him Sunday, as she always did for their weekly phone call. 

  
“How’re your classes going?”

  
“They’re going. You’d really like this one class I’m in. It’s true crime writing. I figured it would be a fun elective to add into my boring gen eds. Maybe I’ll show you my notes when the class is over. It’ll be like you took it with me.” Her voice was tinged in sadness, like she’d hoped he was there with her.

  
Wouldn’t that be something? Jughead Jones in college with Betty Cooper. He almost laughed to himself trying to picture sitting in a classroom or lecture hall, his best friend by his side.  _ Wouldn’t it just be something? _

  
They spent their usual few hours on the phone, catching up on how home was treating Jughead and if anything new had happened in their small town. He listened about the party Betty went to with some guy who lived in her building, but she insisted it wasn’t a date.

  
“Did he kiss you goodnight?”

  
“What?”

  
“You heard me.”

  
“What does that have to do with anything, Jug?”

  
“If he did, than it was a date. Hate to break it to you,” he shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him.

  
He would hear it in her voice, but she was hesitating to tell him, and that alone was enough of a response.   
  
“I just hope he knows how lucky he is,” Jughead said. “But anyway, I need to go. I told Pop I’d come in early today. Heidi is out sick,” he lied.

 

“Oh, okay. Text me later?”

 

“Of course. Good night.” 

 

He hung up the phone. They didn’t talk about the letter. She gave no indication that she’d found it. He would find out her reaction eventually, but the suspense was leaving him on edge. 

  
  


Betty had found the letter in her hoodie pocket the first night she was alone in her dorm. Her roommate hadn’t moved in yet, so she was alone. She knew, feasibly, that she could go explore the city, but she stayed in her room, curled into her favorite hoodie that still somehow managed to smell like Jughead. She inhaled deeply, filling her nose with the smell of home. She fidgeted on her bed until she was comfortable, shoving her hands in the kangaroo pouch, attempting to clasp her hands together when she felt something in the pocket. 

 

She clasped the paper between her fingers, her eyebrows furrowed. She didn’t recognize the paper. It looked to be hand-pressed with remnants of flower petals embedded into it. The handwriting on the front was unmistakable. It was the scroll of Jughead Jones, the script she’d seen nearly everyday since she was a child.

 

She chuckled to herself. It hadn’t changed much since they first learned to write, but it was an improvement to the scrawl of a seven year old. She grazed her finger over the handwriting, a small smile on her lips.

 

She was too afraid to bring it up on the phone a few days later, afraid still of what it could hold. It sat on her desk, propped against her lamp, unread for nearly a week when she found another. It was hidden in the pages of her favorite book. 

 

Again, she traced the writing on the envelope. She returned to her desk and grabbed the first letter, deciding that clearly it was important if there was more than one.

\--

 

_ Betty, _

_ Do you remember that hurricane when we were in seventh grade? We insisted on playing in the puddles, getting soaked within seconds of stepping off your front porch. It was the first time I realized that I was jealous of the rain. _

_ The rain that got to weave its way through your hair and caress your face without the fear of rejection or embarrassment. _

_ The rain that cooled us on hot summer days or chilled us to the bone on blustery winter nights. I always hoped that one day I could be the one to warm you when you were cold, hold you tight, cling to you like the rain in that hurricane. _

_ You always loved the rain. You said it was soothing when you were trying to sleep in the early hours of the morning, like the lullabye you didn’t know you needed. You once said that the rain washed away the sadness and brought about some kind of clarity once it was gone. I want it to be me that soothes you to sleep when the sun is nearly rising; the one that makes you feel refreshed and renewed. _

_ I think I could be. _

 

_ \-- _

 

She flipped the page over, checking the back to make sure there wasn’t anything she missed. The back was blank, the indentations of his words and smattering of rogue ink scattering it. It was clear and foggy all at once. She sat blinking on her bed a few minutes before putting the first letter behind the second and continuing to read the revelation. 

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Betty, _

_ What about the swingset on the playground at Riverdale Elementary? We’d sneak there after class and pretend to be little kids again, before SATs and college applications, summer jobs and real life responsibilities. You always said you liked how the wind billowed through your clothes the higher you got as we swung. Well, I'm jealous of the wind, too. _

_ It had the chance be so close to you in a way I was always too afraid to admit that I wanted to be. I didn’t know what to make of it. Not at first. But I’ve been thinking about it a long time, and let’s be honest, I still don’t. _

_ When we would swing, we’d always said our hearts raced from the fear of falling-- the anticipation of when the right time to jump off would be, to see if we landed on our feet.  _

_ My heart’s been racing with that fear for so long now, but it is finally time to jump.  _

 

\--

 

Betty sat on her bed, clutching the letters in her hands, tears in her eyes. She knew she'd always loved him. He was her best friend, sidekick, study buddy, everything she wanted in a partner in crime. She thought that maybe at one point in their friendship it was something more, but she’d convinced herself otherwise. 

 

How could her brilliant best friend, Jughead, feel anything for plain ol’ pastel and flowers Betty Cooper? As soon as the thought was there, she banished it. Compartmentalized and categorized with things she would never unpack again. But maybe now would be a good time to revisit the long packed away feelings.

 

She placed the letters down next to her and grabbed her phone, tapping out a message to him.

 

_ Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I wish I had known then. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe I would have stayed. Maybe you could have come with me. Maybe if-- _

 

She shook her head and erased it all. He deserved more than a text. A text was for something nonchalant, something less life changing than finding out there had been reciprocated feelings the entire time, even if she was too afraid. 

 

“We're a bunch of scaredy cats, Juggie.” she whispered to herself, wiping the tears from her eyes trying to regain her composure. 

 

She let the letters sink in as she put on her favorite movie. She figured the white noise of  _ Singing in the Rain _ would help, but before Gene Kelly was twirling around a lamp post, she was lost in thoughts of  _ what if _ and  _ if only _ . She needed to clear her head, try her hardest to be rational about the situation. She needed to be realistic.

 

She left her dorm and wandered a few blocks radius around her housing. It wasn't particularly late, the sidewalks still bustling with people going on with their lives. She walked passed a bar and peered through the window, seeing a couple at a high top table, a glass of wine in front of each of them. 

 

They were holding hands across the table, smiles splitting their faces. What was jarring to her was their physical similarities to herself and Jughead. It was like looking into a portal, seeing what the future could be. It could have been them -- happy, so visibly in love that it didn't matter where they were; they'd enjoy their time as if they were the only people in the world.

 

\--

 

As the weeks went by, Betty tried to avoid the feeling bubbling in her chest, the slow ache in the pit of her stomach on her weekly phone calls with Jughead. When he asked her how her day was, he really wanted to know. He wasn't just making idle chit chat like her mother did.

 

“I'll be home next week for a few days. I'll see you, right?” Betty asked, her heart pounding. She wanted nothing more than to hug him tight, apologize for the missed time, the missed connection. She hoped that she hadn’t ruined everything by leaving Riverdale.

 

“Oh, I dunno,” he joked, “I might be too busy, what with my hectic schedule.”

 

She missed the teasing lilt in his voice.

 

“Oh. Then maybe when I’m home for Thanksgiving?”

 

“I'm kidding. Of course I'll see you! You've forgotten what sarcasm is since you've been gone, I see.”

 

“I guess so,” she sighed, relieved that he was only joking. “Let me go though, I have to finish this paper or I'm not going anywhere. I miss you, Jug. I'll see you next week.”

 

“Until then,” Jughead said, sounding almost sad their conversation was coming to an end. “See you soon.”

 

Betty hung up the phone and tossed it on her night stand, determined to finish her paper so she could get home sooner than originally planned.

 

When she had decided to make the trip home, she planned it for the first weekend of October, but if she didn't get her work done, she would cancel. Now that she had read the letters, she slowly began a plan to make sure she was home for the weekend. After all, how could she miss Jughead's birthday?

 

She stayed up all night and finished her research paper that only needed another thousand words and some refining. She submitted it to the online portal and sent an email to her professor saying she would miss class for a family emergency, stating she was very sorry, but she hoped he understood.

 

He did understand. She was a wonderful student and her work was submitted, there was really no reason for her to go that day anyway. 

 

She packed a weekend bag, her favorite book, her favorite hoodie, and a few essentials she would need for her weekend home. She found a pair of jeans at the bottom of the dresser and refolded them, back pockets out and placed it on top of her other clothes in the pink paisley duffle bag. She went to smooth everything down when she heard something crinkle in the denim of the pants she had just packed. 

 

She inspected the pockets carefully only to discover another envelope that matched the other two. 

 

**3 of 4**

 

She ran her fingers delicately over Jughead's handwriting. She sat down at the edge of her bed slowly, like it would be pulled from under her. She slipped her index finger under the flap to unseal the parcel and took a deep, grounding breath. 

 

_ \-- _

 

_ Hey beautiful, it's me again. Jughead. Jones. Not like you know another Jughead. I'm sure I would have heard about that if you did. Anyway, so if you're reading this, you've read the first two and maybe we've talked about it already. Or maybe we haven't, but I still have more to say, so bear with me. _

_ It killed me that you liked Archie. I know you said it's because it made sense. He’s your other best friend. He's your neighbor and the kind of person you deserve. Someone who has something to offer.  _

_ But I'm slightly ashamed of how excited I was when he didn’t feel the same way. I held you when you cried, thinking you weren't enough for him.You said you weren't pretty enough or smart enough and I had to bite my tongue. _

_ You are the most beautiful person I've ever known. You're smart and kind and wonderful and I know you don't see it, but I do and I think I always will.  _

_ Archie would  _ _ never _ _ have been good enough for you. You deserve the universe, more than the world. You are too good for everyone. But maybe, just maybe, I could be deserving of even an ounce of your thoughts at night, like he was. _

_ I'm jealous of all the nights that I didn't get to spend with you, all the nights it was Archie on your mind instead of me.  I’m jealous of all the people you're bound to meet who will realize just how amazing you are, of all the nights you'll spend thinking of anyone but me when you're away at college. _

_ But maybe one day that could be me. _

 

\--

 

The words echoed in her head,  _ maybe one day that could be me _ . She had spent so long suppressing the insane thought that she and Jughead could be more than childhood best friends, but the more she sat and thought about it, the more it made sense.

 

Their lives would always be tangled together. Every part of her childhood was wrapped up with him, and if he wasn’t there for something, she had wished he could have been. He was there on the first day of kindergarten, her first school dance, her communion, confirmation, birthdays. He was by her side when she mailed her acceptance letter to college, he was there when she dropped it in the old rusted mailbox, hands shaking with anxiety before it even hit the bottom. And when she got her response, she had waited to be next to him to find out.

 

He was there. He was always there. There were few memories she had from growing up where it hadn’t been Betty and Jughead and she realized, after reading his uncensored confessions, that it was all she wanted for her future, too. She wanted him there when she would eventually graduate from college, when she got her first ‘big girl’ job, and when she moved into her first apartment, finally free of her family.

 

He was already her first call for everything-- good, bad, and everything in between. When she was excited, she called Jughead When she was upset or sad or disappointed or nervous, she called Jughead. And if he didn’t answer, she’d wrap herself in his old worn hoodie and watch his favorite movie just to feel closer to him.

 

It hit her all at once.  _ Maybe one day that could be me _ . She wanted it to be him. Maybe somewhere deep inside, she always wanted it to be him. She was sure of it then, in that moment as she reread the letters, having them nearly memorized by the time she went to sleep.

 

The next morning, she woke early, eager to begin her trek back to Riverdale. She would walk five blocks to the nearest subway, take three connectors to Penn Station, then hop onto the MetroNorth back to Riverdale. Once she arrived, she’d take a cab and surprise him at Pop’s. 

 

He always worked the mid-shift on Fridays. 

 

\--

 

She took a deep breath before opening the heavy glass door of the diner. The bell jingling above her head sounded like home. She hadn’t even stopped at her house first to drop off her bag. She stood in front of the door, bag in hand, letters tucked firmly into her pocket. She heard him before she saw him. His voice was light and full of laughter, just like it was in quiet moments with her. She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face.

 

He turned the corner and stopped in his tracks, the brown liquid of the nearly full coffee pot sloshing precariously close to the spout. She saw his eyes twinkle under the fluorescent lighting and a smile quirk at the edge of his lips.

 

He hastily placed the pot of coffee down and made his way to her quickly, taking her bag and setting it down in an empty booth before sweeping her into the biggest hug she’d received since she left the small town for college.

 

“I thought you weren’t gonna be back until tomorrow,” Jughead breathed into her hair as he held her close.

 

“Surprise,” Betty giggled, pulling herself away from him, looking him in his fathomless blue eyes.

 

“I thought you had class on Fridays,” his eyebrows were curved down, confusion freckling his face.

 

“I do, but I submitted my paper early. I wanted to be here. I wanted to talk--” Betty was cut off by the sound of the bell in the window as Pop tapped it three times, indicating there was an order ready.

 

“Hold that thought,” Jughead said as he turned toward the window and picked up the three plates, balancing one expertly on his forearm and one in each hand as he skirted around the counter to a booth with three people-- two boys and a girl. 

 

She smiled at them and was brought back in a near instant to herself, Jughead and Archie sitting in the same booth at that age. She watched as Jughead returned to the kitchen and shared a few words with Pop, who smiled and waved at Betty. 

 

Jughead came back out of the swinging kitchen door, untying his apron and tucking it into a cubby behind the counter. He grabbed his sherpa jacket and beanie and headed back to Betty, picking up her bag and walking out the front door.

 

“You comin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

 

“You’re just leaving?” Betty asked as she ran toward him, out the door, and into the parking lot toward his truck.

 

“There was only an hour and a half left of my shift anyway and I told Pop something more important came up.” He turned around to look at her and shrugged. “Besides, it’s dead, and Heidi is here to cover the three tables.” 

 

Betty raised her eyebrow; she didn’t believe him.

 

“He told me before you walked in that once I ran the food out, I could go. It just happened to be good timing.” He winked at her, pulling her into his side for another hug. “Let me take you home,” he said, throwing her bag into the bed of the pickup. 

 

“Actually, can we go to the river? My mom doesn’t know I’m back yet and isn’t expecting me until late tonight. I didn’t tell her I skipped out on class.”

 

“Whatever you want.”

 

They climbed into the truck and made their way the short distance to the clearing they always visited when they were younger. They had spent so much time there during the summer, until it got too cold to stand it. 

 

They walked in silence until they reached their spot, a cluster of boulders at the river’s edge in staggering heights. He helped her up to the top level and she sat with her knees to her chest, eyes focused on the water, absorbing the ambient sound she missed when she was in the the middle of the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps.

 

Jughead stayed on the shore, his fingers twitching in the pockets of his jeans, picking at the frayed threads holding them together. His nervous energy was palpable; it ricocheted off of him to the trees and made its way back to Betty.

 

“What’s wrong, Jug?” 

 

“You said, uh. You said you wanted to talk. What--what did you wanna talk about?” He bounced from his heels to the balls of his feet, trying to harness his nerves. 

 

Betty pressed her hand to the outside of her pocket where she’d kept the letters that she reread on the train ride up. Not that she needed to, she had them memorized from reading them more times than she could actually count. 

 

“I found something interesting when I was at school,” she started.

 

“Mouse on the subway,” he deadpanned.

 

“As fun as that sounds, no. I mean, yes, but no.” 

 

“You found,” Jughead tapped his chin playfully, knowing exactly what she was referring to. She wouldn’t have said she wanted to talk if she hadn’t found at least one of the letters.

 

“I found the letters, Jug,” she said, finally looking up from the river. 

 

“How many?”

 

“Three. But the last one said there was four. Should I expect to find another somewhere when I get back?”

 

“No.”

 

“But it said three of four.”

 

“I know it did.”

 

“Then where is it?”

 

Jughead reached into his back pocket and produced an envelope identical to the others. He shrugged, his feet turning in toward each other, still bouncing. He flipped it in his hands, turning it end over end until he nearly dropped it.

 

“Why do you have it?”

 

“Well, the plan was for you to find them and then when you came home for Thanksgiving we’d talk about it and I’d give it to you and then, well, I didn’t get that far. But, as usual, you’re an overachiever and ahead of schedule,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. He could feel the heat on his cheeks, unable to look her in the eyes. His gaze couldn’t move passed her shoulders, afraid of what he’d find behind the most expressive eyes he’d ever seen.

 

He wasn’t sure he could take the impending rejection he was sure was coming. Why would someone as spectacular as Betty Cooper ever want someone as mundane as him? He worked at Pop’s to save money for college. He had enough for a semester at the local community college, but it was too late to enroll for the current one. He would have to wait until spring, much to his dismay.

 

Betty hopped down from the rock ledge and stood face to face with Jughead. 

 

“Can I? Can I read it?” She looked up at him, their eyes finally connecting. She got lost in the depth of the bright blue in the natural light, the same sparkle there that he had at the diner. 

 

She’d always been able to read him, every facial expression, every twitch or smirk or twinkle. This is one she’d never noticed before. It looked like fear, hope, and anxiety all wrapped into one. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, but she was sure hers reflected the same sentiment. 

 

Jughead looked down to the letter in his hand then back up at Betty a few times before jutting his hand forward for her to take the letter. 

 

“I’ll be over there,” he blurted out. He didn’t want to watch her read it; he didn’t think he could handle it.

 

“I’ll be up there,” she said pointing to the rock ledge.

 

They walked their separate ways. Jughead settled a few yards down the river while Betty climbed to her spot on the rocks. 

 

Betty took a deep breath, crossing her legs to sit with her elbows on her knees. She flipped the letter in her hands a few times before opening the seal and devouring the contents.    
  


\--

_ I don’t know when it started or if it even had a start to begin with. I feel like I’ve loved you since before I knew your name, before I learned that pink wasn’t actually your favorite color. and before you found your love of books and passion for life.  _

_ I loved you before you were my best friend and before it was probably appropriate to know what love is, and maybe I still don’t. When I think about love or the future or family, you’re always there. And maybe that’s a bit presumptuous, but that’s my reality. _

_ You are far too good for me, and I know that, but there isn’t a whole lot that I was ever sure of. I wasn’t sure if my mom would ever come back and I wasn’t sure if my dad would stop drinking, but I was always sure that you’d be there. I was always sure that you would be the brightest star in my perpetual, albeit self-imposed, darkness. Before I knew it, you weren’t just a star, you were the entire sky. You weren’t just my best friend, you were my everything. You became more than just Betty, my classmate and friend. You became Betty, someone I’d move mountains for, someone I’d go to Mars for, someone-- the only one-- I’d do anything and everything for.  _

_ I guess what I’m just trying to say is that I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since before I can remember, and I know that is a lot to unpack, but I figured this was the best way to tell you because I couldn’t chicken out once they were hidden. So I couldn’t second guess myself or swallow it.  _

_ So. Now you know. _

_ I love you,  _

_ Jughead _

 

_ \-- _

 

Betty felt the tears drip from her eyes onto her hands. She wiped them away hastily, trying not to let the ink smudge Jughead’s words. Betty had read a lot of books in her eighteen years, but this was the most beautiful thing she’d laid eyes on. She wasn’t sure if it was because it was for her and her alone, or because it was full of so much raw emotion. She kissed his name while his back was turned to her, letting the reality of it sink in, the emotionality of his words seeping through her skin and into her heart. She wasn’t afraid anymore.

 

His words reverberated through her skull, rattling every recess of her mind. It was written in black and white. 

 

Jughead loved her. Jughead Jones was in love with her. He was undoubtedly, unequivocally in love with her.

 

She looked up and across the ledge and watched as Jughead paced circles, his arms flailing. She could see his mouth moving, talking to himself probably in an effort to calm himself. She laughed to herself, wiping the residual tears from her eyes. She carefully climbed off the rock and made her way to where Jughead was fidgeting. She was as quiet as the loose gravel under her feet allowed her to be. 

 

She steeled herself before she tapped him on the shoulder, gaining his attention with a slight startle. 

 

“Jug, this is...” she sniffled, “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read.”

 

“Thanks,” he turned to look at her, his hand cupping her cheek, thumb stroking  the moisture still under her eyes. 

 

She leaned into his touch, reveling in the warmth of his hand in the cool autumn breeze.

 

“I know it’s a lot, and probably overwhelming to read, but I just really needed you to know before I talked myself out of it.” He was rambling and he knew it. He had a tendency to do that when he was anxious. “Sorry,” he said, hushed.

 

“Why are you sorry?”

 

“Because it’s a lot.”

 

Betty pulled Jughead’s hand from her face and threaded her fingers through his.

 

He looked down at their hands then back up to her face. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. It could have been her way of letting him down easy.

 

“It is. You’re right. But...”

 

“But?” He let himself hold onto the hope.

 

She could see it shining in his eyes. “But, what if… what if I told you that I never really loved Archie, just that I thought I did?. And what if I told you I’d been hiding something from you?”

 

“You’ve never hidden anything from me.” Jughead’s voice was quiet. 

 

“I was afraid of it, so I hid it.” She pulled him down to sit at the river’s edge. “I think I always knew, but I was so afraid of it, so I tried to bury it a long time ago. Then I read your letters and it all came flooding back. There were so many questions I started to ask myself, like what if I had said something then or what if you did and maybe we could-- mmmph-”

 

Betty was cut off by the soft pressure of his lips on hers for the first time, the empty hand now cradling her neck. It wasn’t long before she was kissing him back, soft and sweet, exactly as it should have been. 

 

They released each other slowly, eyes still closed. Jughead’s eyes fluttered open then, and taking a breath of relief, he watched the corners of Betty’s lips turn up into a content smile. 

 

“I love you,” Betty whispered, her eyes still closed, trying to savor the moment.

 

Jughead hummed contentedly, his forehead pressed to hers as he whispered it back. He’d finally said it outloud to someone other than himself. He loved Betty Cooper, but more importantly, she loved him back. 

 

He pressed his lips to hers again, thumb stroking her jawline. He felt her smile behind her kiss and his heart could have burst on the spot. 

 

_ Maybe one day he could be. _

That day was today.

  
  
  


 

\--fin

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> find me on the tumbles: @shrugheadjonesthethird


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